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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Three: And Then There Were Three

Rifle balls and arrows pepper the undead horde that beat upon the reinforced outer doors. With bow in hand, Kirsta fires arrow after arrow, striking several of the abominations in the skull and dropping them. However, there are just so many of them, and to her dismay, some of the foul creatures have familiar faces. Taking careful aim, she fires an arrow into the forehead of the town blacksmith, turned by whatever dark forces are at work.

“Keep it up! They can't get through!" Kirsta shouts, feeling emboldened.

Shot after shot, the undead horde loses strength, but for every monster they slay, another seems to emerge from the darkness of the forest. Suddenly, and surrounded by skeletal guards bearing sturdy shields, an unusually swift zombie moves toward the outer door, carrying something in its decaying hands. Kirsta's eyes bulge in horror.

“Shoot that foul thing! Kill it!" She screams.

Though she tries to destroy the creature, as do her warriors, the shield bearing skeletons protect it, and the wooden powder keg with a smoldering fuse. Reaching the outer doors, the zombie stands and waits, allowing itself to be dispatched by a warrior. It's far too late, however. The primitive bomb explodes, shattering the doors and damaging the wall. The defenders are only lucky that the undead don't have the strength or dexterity to manage bows or firearms, but they've still managed to breach their clan-house.

Racing for the murder holes, Kirsta uses a torch to light the oil basins, quickly dumping the liquid fire upon the zombies and skeletons below. Ramming their fetid bodies against the inner gate, it begins to creak from fatigue. Looking over the walls, the field is littered with undead, yet even more emerge to replace them. How many are there?! Dashing down the steps, she finds herself in the center of the courtyard. Taking aim with her bow, a glow behind her catches her attention. Spinning around, she's horrified to see one of the clan-house apartments is on fire! It's the room that's been given to Irzain. Stumbling out of the smoke-filled room, Irzain gasps for breath.

“What happened?!"

“Undead... They uh... They threw a torch inside." Irzain explains.

“Damnit! They're going to burn us on one side and crush us on the other!" Kirsta growls.

“What're we going to do?!" Irzain asks, approaching her.

“We're going to fight to the last or die tr-"

Kirsta stops mid-sentence as elder Matius emerges from his quarters, wearing his rob and linen slippers.

“What are you doing, elder?! It's not safe out here! We can handle this!" She pleads, coldly pushing past Irzain.

“No, you can't. I'll do what I can, but I recommend the tunnels." Elder Matius instructs.

“But elder!"

“Stop." The old man holds up a hand. “You're a soldier, so be one. Follow my order: prepare to flee through the tunnels."

“Yes, elder." Kirsta bows her head.

Approaching the inner gate, which buckles and bends under the weight of the flaming undead, the old man holds up his hands and whispers to them. A glow, like a shooting star, illuminates his palms. Using his talents in Halcyon magic, Matius holds out his hands before him, moving closer and closer toward the gate. The zombie's flesh turns to ash, while the skeletons fall apart, cleansed with his power. With a limited range, however, he moves dangerously close to the bars. Men and women reload their few arquebus rifles and collect more arrows as he cleanses the walkway, giving them time to prepare.

Suddenly, another zombie emerges from beyond the now breached outer doors. It charges into the walkway, carrying a lit powder keg, only to be cleansed by Matius' powerful, positive magic. Dropping the barrel, it rolls closer. BOOM! Before Matius can turn around, the barrel explodes, breaking the elder's body with a strong, concussive force. Heads spin and ears ring as all inside are affected to a degree. Kirsta and Irzain, however, being near the back of the courtyard, are the least affected.

“Elder!" Kirsta screams.

Racing toward him, she grabs the old man by his armpits and drags his broken and somewhat burnt body away from the now ruined inner gate. With blood streaming from his popped eardrums, he opens his eyes.

“Kirsta..." He wheezes.

“Shh. Don't talk, elder. You're going to be alright."

“Please, listen... Protect Irzain... He's... The most important of us."

“What are you talking about?"

“Watch over him... Please..." Elder Matius coughs up some blood.

“Fine, whatever, but let's just get you to safety."

“No! ..." He swats a hand at her. “Go... While you still can."

With the other warriors finally growing the courage, they approach their military leader and the dying elder, grabbing Kirsta's shoulders and pulling her away.

“Come on! We have to go!" A man urges.

Elder Matius lay in the dirt, his head tilted back as he watches with a strange expression. Is he smiling at her? The sight unnerves Kirsta, whose only response is to turn away. Taking hold of Irzain, she leads the clan toward a certain room, which hides their escape tunnel.

“They're coming!" A woman screams.

Turning back, Kirsta watches as the horde of undead swarm into the walkway, flowing like water. A skeletal warrior near the front of the group jams a primitive spear into elder Matius' chest, swiftly ending his life.

“Damn you all..." Kirsta grumbles.

Rushing inside and opening the door to the tunnel, Kirsta holds Irzain tightly, dragging him through, as nearly a dozen men race for the exit. They walk in nearly pitch darkness, as the tunnel is rarely lit and has never been used in this manner. Nearly two hundred feet beyond the clan-house walls, near a tiny and difficult to traverse creek bed, Kirsta and her warriors reach the small, outer gate. Screams echo throughout the tunnel as the monstrous creatures slaughter their way through the innocents who straggle behind them.

Realizing that they've lost, Kirsta doesn't order her warriors to return through the tunnel to aid them; that would likely cost them all of their lives. Instead, her men open the gate and race into the night. No sooner do they emerge, however, than more undead also appear. How do the foul monstrosities know the location of the secret tunnel's exit? Irzain jumps to the left as a man is struck in the head with a severely rusted axe, wielded by a ghoul with most of its flesh intact; it's likely a former resident of the town. Its eyes glow a vibrant green as it looks Irzain over. A look of recognition comes over the creature as it draws a dagger.

“Run!" Kirsta snarls.

Pushing the terrified Irzain out of the way, she swings her iron sword, cleaving the head from the ghoul with one stroke, but damaging the blade. A visible dent glistens in the moonlight.

“Damnit!" Kirsta grumbles, grabbing Irzain. “We have to go!"

“Where?!" Irzain asks.

Kirsta pauses, looking at her warriors as they fight a detachment of undead. Civilians emerge from the tunnel, only to be forced to fight for their very lives. Most won't survive.

“Back to town. We can steal a fishing boat. Come on!"

Reluctantly, Kirsta gives up on her people, many of whom are already dead or dying. Leading Irzain into the woods, guided only by the moonlight, she knows that they have only one chance. Pursued by two unusually quick zombies, Kirsta pauses.

“Keep going!" She commands.

Stopping in his tracks, Irzain watches helplessly. He was clearly not a soldier before his head injury claimed his memories, as evidence by how he handles this predicament. Turning back, Kirsta faces the two zombies, the only creatures that seem to be following them.

“This is for Matius, you sons of whores!" She growls, holding up her damaged sword.

The undead charge her, one holding an axe and the other a simple, iron dagger. With a dodge and a swing, Kirsta cleaves the hands of the dagger wielding zombie with her Messer. It falls forward in a heap. Shambling around, the zombie with the axe raises its blade, which is almost as decrepit as it is. Holding up her sword to catch the swing, Kirsta's weakened blade snaps at the dent, shortening her sword by nearly a foot. Falling backward, Kirsta rolls out of the way as the zombie takes another swing.

Burying the axe into the dirt, she kicks its arm and breaks the bone, before also cleaving its head from its body. Now effectively useless, she tosses the blade away, claiming the axe instead. As she attempts to pull it from the soil, she hears a noise. Swiftly turning around, Kirsta's eyes grow wide as the handless zombie tries to bite her. It stops, however, when Irzain plunges its own dagger into the base of its skull, while still gripped by its putrid fingers.

“Oh... Ugh..." Irzain stumbles back.

Turning around, he heaves, vomiting up his dinner. Looking at his own hands, stained with the cold, mushy flesh of the zombie, he steps toward a tree and frantically rubs his palms against its bark, visibly disgusted. With a furled brow and an amused smirk, Kirsta claims the ancient axe and approaches him.

“Come on." She says, patting him on the shoulder.

She continues to walk into the night, while Irzain stands in silence, watching her.

“You're welcome?" He finally speaks.

Kirsta pauses, looking back at him.

“I didn't say 'thank you'... Let's go."

Walking into the darkness together, Kirsta and Irzain remain as quiet as they can. Irzain, with no knowledge of the location that he's in, follows her lead without question. A tense but uneventful walk sees them returning to the town, which is somehow less eerie in the darkness. Perhaps because they know that the undead are likely not there? Heading toward the docks, Kirsta and Irzain slip into a few houses, using only the light of the moon to find whatever supplies that they can.

Collecting a handful of vasariks, a decent sword, as well as food and wine to last for a few days, the pair make their way to the boats. With only two of them, the only craft at their disposal is a tiny fishing boat, powered by a four-foot by six-foot sail and a set of oars.

“Well... At least it floats." She sighs.

Climbing into the boat, Irzain struggles to untie the ropes that moor the craft to the docks.

“I guess you weren't a sailor either." She chuckles.

Watching him, as if for her own amusement, Kirsta refuses to help. She takes a bite from a bread roll and sips some wine from the Bota bag. Sighing in frustration, Irzain looks for a blade. He eyes Kirsta's sword and axe, but she pushes them away with her foot. Turning his eyes toward her, she is very clearly amused, but also serious. Fumbling with the ropes, he pauses when he hears a noise. Footfalls approach.

“Survivors?" He looks to Kirsta.

Rising from her seat, she caps the bag and sets it aside. She climbs the little mast, looking past him.

“Move!" She yells, dropping down and drawing her dagger.

Stepping back, Kirsta saws through a rope. Reaching for the axe, Irzain can hear the awful groans and moans of the undead horde. Are they following them?! With a hard swing, he cuts a rope, just as Kirsta severs the third. Leaning over, they both push the boat away, just as a dozen undead reach the docks. They stand as still as statues, watching the pair with glowing green eyes as they float away. Kirsta shifts slightly to the side, watching the undead. They take no interest in her, though they stare intensely at Irzain. She grabs his shoulder, turning him to face her.

“Who are you?!"

“I-I... Don't know..." He says, bringing a hand to his head.

“Then we damn well better find out..." She growls.

Sitting in the small boat as it bobs gently in the darkened water, the moonlight bounces off of the fluttering waves. Staring intently at the blackness beneath the boat, Irzain ponders the events that've unfolded before him.

“Your turn." Kirsta sighs.

Glancing back and over his shoulder, Irzain moves from the front of the small craft, trading places with the young woman. Taking hold of both oars, Irzain rows, moving them along the course that Kirsta has set for them.

“Where are we going?" He finally asks.

With her arms resting along the side of the craft, Kirsta glances back. After a short gaze, she returns her attention to the water, resting her chin atop her arms as she looks into the waves.

“Widoval... It's the nearest island to Shemok." She softly answers.

“Oh... Do you have friends there?"

“I've never been there... I've never even left my island. I was born here, you know..." She explains, her voice as quite as a mouse.

With a little sniffle, Kirsta lifts an arm and wipes an eye.

“Look, I'm... I'm sorry." Irzain speaks softly, hoping to comfort her.

“You better be!" She growls, turning around in her seat. “Life wasn't nearly this awful before you showed up... I had a home, and a life... I had a lover... It's all gone now."

“If you want to part ways on the next island... I'll understand."

“I'd love to do just that, but I made a promise." Kirsta shakes her head. “Besides... I need to know what's so special about you."

“What do you mean?"

“Don't play stupid, Irzain. You might not have your memory, but you damn sure have your brains. We both saw how those monsters were looking at you. I need to know why..."

Turning back around, Kirsta continues to watch the waves as Irzain rows in silence.

“What was his name?"

“What?" Kirsta glances back.

“Your lover... What was his name?"

“His name..." Kirsta sighs, resting against the railing of the boat. “His name was Davyn."

“Davyn." Irzain murmurs, committing the name to memory.

With her eyes welling with tears, Kirsta sits upright, quickly leaning over and grabbing the Bota bag full of wine. Rowing in silence, Irzain watches as she pulls the cap from the bag and drinks the potent liquid. Five large gulps later, she puts the cap back in place, tossing the bag onto the floor of the vessel. Irzain rows for what feels like hours, while Kirsta lay on the furthest seat, softly weeping for her lost love, and ruined home. Suddenly, Kirsta lifts her head. Sitting up on the bench seat, she quickly stands to her feet.

“There! That should be Widoval!" She exclaims.

Glancing over his shoulder, Irzain can see a distant landmass. It's a small island, even smaller than Shemok.

“Do people live there?"

“I've heard that there's a solitary clan, but I can't be sure that they're still there. This is my first trip so far from home." She answers.

Within moments, they land the boat on the sandy beach of Widoval. Climbing out of the craft, the pair pull the boat as far onto the shore as they can, preventing the tide from taking what might be their only means of transportation. Looking toward the horizon, the sun begins to rise, peeking over the treetops to the east.

“I knew it." Irzain remarks.

“Knew what?"

“I knew we were on the water for a long time. It felt like I was rowing for hours on end!" He says, giving his biceps a squeeze.

“Come on... Let's see if anyone still lives here."

Walking along the shore for a moment, Kirsta and Irzain don't see any structures which would otherwise hint at civilization. They make their way from the beach, pushing through a dense, young, secondary forest. The small trees snag their clothes as they push deeper into the island. Emerging from the forest, they see a structure in the distance. Made of large stones and constructed as an upended rectangle, the castle looks quite old. Perhaps it's no longer used? Walking along the forest and around the distant structure, Kirsta takes precautions. After all, the duo cannot be sure if the castle's inhabitants are friendly, should there even be any.

Inching their way closer, nearly on the opposite end of the castle, a sudden gunshot startles the pair. Dropping down to the ground, they hear a second. From a corner of the castle, a man emerges, holding a small firearm of some kind. He pours black powder down the barrel, reloading the weapon as he walks across a field. Kirsta raises a brow when she finally notices a small, wooden framework. Is he trying to hit a mounted target?

“Why would he shoot something so far away? He'll never hit it." She speaks softly to herself.

“Is that too far for a gun?" Irzain asks, leaning closer.

“Guns aren't good past throwing distance. The ball comes out of that smooth barrel and goes wherever it wants. That's why I never use them." Kirsta explains.

Switching weapons, the gunman, who stands well over three-hundred feet away, begins to reload a second weapon, about the size of the first. Watching the man, neither Irzain nor Kirsta notice the skeletal hand reaching for Irzain's legs. Taking hold of his ankle, Irzain cries out, rolling onto his side as he looks down at his feet. From a trail near the forest, three undead have emerged.

“Damnit! Can't we get a break?!" Kirsta growls.

Springing to her feet and taking up her weapons, she prepares for a fight, forgetting about the gunman entirely. Kicking at the skeleton, the dark power of Haze magic holds it together. Hissing like an angry cat, the skeleton lurches forward, reaching out to Irzain. Burying the old axe into its skull, Kirsta shatters the skeleton's head, and also the ancient blade. As it falls to piece, she throws the axe handle at a ghoulish, reanimated corpse. It smacks the zombie in the face, distracting it long enough for her ready her new sword.

Irzain, meanwhile, struggles with a second zombie, trying to crawl away as it grabs his ankles. It's clear that the monster wants to drag him away. With a hard swing, Kirsta cleaves the head from the zombie before her, but before she can save Irzain, she jumps, startled by a loud report. Struck in the head by a bullet, the zombie attacking Irzain falls dead, a massive hole where the round has exited its skull. Turning to face the shooter, Kirsta brings up her sword.

“Ah-ah!" The man shakes his head.

With a second firearm pointed right at her head, he cocks the hammer of his black powder pistol. The pale human stands all of fifty feet away. How did he make such an impressive shot?

“That would be a mistake, miss." The gunman says with a smile.

“You think you can hit me from there?" She asks.

“I hit that... Thing... And this pistol is as good as my other."

She watches the man, who stands all of five feet and eight inches tall. With an average build, he is otherwise unassuming, aside from his long, light brown hair, which is even longer than her own, and a six-inch-long goatee. Turning her sapphire eyes toward Irzain, who scrambles to his feet, she lowers her sword.

“Even with a good pistol, do you really think that you can kill the both of us, with only one shot?" She asks the gunman.

“He doesn't look like much, and you'd certainly die first. I don't want to hurt you, but I also don't know who you are... Please... Put down the sword."

Kirsta stares into his blue-green eyes, and sees something in the gunman's face. Even from this distance it's obvious; he doesn't wish to harm them. No longer feeling threatened, she tosses the sword to the ground. It lands nearly ten feet from her, between her and the gunman. He steps closer, keeping his weapon trained on her. He doesn't even bother to look toward Irzain, who admittedly isn't much of a threat to either of them.

“Thank you. I'm Valan." The gunman says as he claims her weapon from the ground.

“Kirsta... This is Irzain." She says, pointing to her companion.

“It's a pleasure to meet you both, given the circumstances." Valan bows his head to them.

“What happens now?" Irzain asks.

“Hm? Oh!" Valan swiftly holsters his loaded pistol. “Now we head inside. I'm sure my family would like to meet you. We don't have many visitors!"

“Do you have many of these?" Kirsta points to the undead.

Valan slowly shakes his head. With a wave of his hand, he presents the field to them. Kirsta and Irzain glance toward each other, hesitant to walk past the gunman, who dispatched the monstrosities so casually. He stands well out of reach, holding Kirsta's sword and ready to draw his pistol at a moment's notice, waiting for them to make their first step. A cold wind flutters his long hair, blowing it across his face and against his long beard.

“... And now we start walking to the castle." Valan chuckles.